


Flight from Dorthonion

by Houseofhaleth



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Edain, F/M, Gen, House of Bëor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:59:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Houseofhaleth/pseuds/Houseofhaleth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emeldir, Beren's mother, was the one who would lead the refugees of the House of Beor from their home in Dorthonion when it was attacked by Morgoth in the battle of Sudden Flame. Before they leave, she must say goodbye to her husband and son for the last time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flight from Dorthonion

If she could hate them – if she could be angry with them – it would be so much easier. She could scream at her husband and son for their stubbornness, and turn and march south, not looking back. And then what? Would it help? Would it change anything? 

Raging was a luxury she didn’t have. She had now fourteen new daughters, and nine new sisters – the children and wives (widows) of those who would stay in Dorthonion. And if she lost them too...it was a delicate tower, like a structure of snowflakes, and it rested on her ability to appear strong.

So when she said goodbye to her son, she kissed him with dry eyes, held him close and breathed in the smell of his hair for the last time. But she didn’t beg him to come with them, and protect his people – nor point out that the people were more than the land, and didn’t he owe something to his mother as well as his father.  
‘We need to delay them here. We can’t let them follow straight on your heels, we need to halt them in the hills for as long as-’  
‘Stop,’ she ordered.  
He did, and it gave her time to take some deep breaths, and press her lips to his forehead. ‘I’m proud of you,’ she said, looking past him. She gave him a moment before meeting his eyes, and when she did, they were shining.  


Still, somehow, she managed not to cry as she squeezed his shoulders, and let go of him.

When everything was set for them to leave (or at least, they couldn’t delay it any longer) she found Barahir boarding up the door to their house. As if it needed protecting. As if they’d be coming back.  
‘Well,’ she said.  
He nodded. ‘Stick to the river like we said, at least to start. They’ll be reluctant to leave – push them. They’re strong, they can-’  
‘Are you going to repeat yourself for the tenth time? That’s going to be your goodbye?’ she interrupted.  
He stopped, dead, and looked at her wordlessly.  
 _If she could be angry with him it would be so much easier._  
‘What do you want. Shall we pretend you’re off for a picnic in the woods? Would that help?’ Perhaps he wished he could be angry too. Perhaps he was trying to be, but he had her hands in his, and was twining his fingers with hers. ‘What do you want?’ he asked again, quietly. ‘Because I don’t know.’  
She took his hands firmly, and pulled him towards the house. ‘No avoiding it, no lies. If you can’t find words, that’s fine, you find something else.’ She shoved a board out of the way of the door. ‘And this was a stupid idea.’  
‘I know,’ he said.  
‘We’ve got maybe twenty m-’  
‘No. Stop. I don’t want to know how long we’ve got,’ he said. One of his hands came free of hers, and he buried it in her hair.  
‘Alright,’ she agreed, taking a fistful of his shirt as he kicked the door closed behind him. He drew her close and she pressed herself against him, imprinting everything about how he felt, right now, in her memory.  
‘Aren’t words for how I love you, Emeldir,’ he said, his voice uneven.  
At that, she had to close her eyes tight.  
‘Then don’t use words,’ she told him, touching her lips to his skin for the last time.


End file.
